


Seizing Opportunity

by SeraphJewel



Series: Opportunities [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphJewel/pseuds/SeraphJewel
Summary: A trip through Devil's Acre turns out to be more than Jacob expected. Especially when he comes face-to-face with the Blighters' gang leader, Maxwell Roth. A canon divergence requested by GavImp.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth
Series: Opportunities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882159
Comments: 49
Kudos: 47





	1. Devil's Acre

Escorting Mrs. Disraeli through Devil's Acre seemed like an incredibly bad idea. Why did she have to pick such a seedy place? Sadly, Jacob and Evie needed the information, so there was no other choice than to go along with the woman's odd whims. Jacob did wish she at least attempted to not stand out so much. Honestly, between her outfit and her barking dog, it would be a miracle if every criminal didn't hone in on her.

All in the name of the job. Mrs. Disraeli didn't seem fazed by anything as Jacob walked her through the area. She actually seemed pleased by the public display of affection they passed by on the way to the pub, an attitude that surprised him. At least she was having a good time.

Jacob knew there was a Blighter sitting behind them. He expected trouble, but didn't expect the man to snatch little Desmond. Of all the things of Mrs. Disraeli's to steal, they chose the annoying dog? Maybe they thought they could trade it in for ransom. Jacob didn't spare much time in considering the motives. He was now grateful the beast barked so loud; the noise made it easy for him to track down the dognapper.

“There now, Desmond. Let's return you to your mistress.... who I just left unattended in London's most dangerous pub.”

Idiot! Of course they weren't really after the bloody dog! Fearing the worst, Jacob raced back over to the pub.

He expected Mrs. Disraeli to be surrounded by Blighters. What he hadn't expected was her speaking with them in a cordial, almost matronly tone. Jacob felt his jaw drop. What was happening? Mrs. Disraeli was giving one of them advice and offering him a sweetie as if all of this was the most normal thing in the world.

Jacob pushed his way through and set the dog back on the table. “Oh, there you are, Desmond. And Mr. Frye!” Mrs. Disraeli smiled at him, completely unaware of the danger she somehow avoided. “I would like to introduce you to... I'm sorry, dear, I didn't catch your name.”

“John the Tosser.”

“Charmed,” Jacob said dryly. Mrs. Disraeli didn't seem to know the meaning of the word, which was likely for the best. “I think it's time we be going.”

“Oh, don't be that way.” It was a voice he didn't recognize. He turned, and saw a well-dressed man stepping forward. This stranger had a long scar cutting down his face starting above his eyebrow and going all the way down to his chin. It was that scar that clued Jacob in to the man's identity: Maxwell Roth, leader of the Blighter gang.

“They only wanted to give the lady some company,” Roth continued. “No harm done.” Jacob couldn't argue with that. He found his eyes lingering on Roth. He heard a lot of stories about the man, but this was their first time meeting in person. Did Roth know who he was? The way the man was smiling at him seemed to promise danger, but it was oddly thrilling, too.

“Do you really have to leave, Mrs. D?” John the Tosser's voice broke through the daze Jacob had fallen in. He blinked, turning his eyes away from Roth. Mrs. Disraeli gave her new friend a smile, turning an expectant glance toward Jacob.

“Well,” he sighed, “as Mr. Roth said, no harm was done. I suppose we can stay a bit longer.”

“How delightful!” Mrs. Disraeli beamed. Jacob felt someone catch his elbow and saw it was Roth. He followed the man's pull to another table some distance from Mrs. Disraeli and her group of admirers. She was still well within Jacob's line of sight, though.

Roth sat them both down, calling for two pints. “So. You know who I am.”

“I make it my business to know my rival, Mr. Roth.”

“I know about you too, of course.” Roth paused when their pints arrived, taking a generous swig from his mug; Jacob did the same, trying to keep his attention on Mrs. Disraeli even as it kept wanting to center on the man sitting across from him. “I admit I wasn't expecting to come across you here, but when opportunity presents itself, I seize it.”

“I see.” It was his training as an Assassin and his being the leader of the Rooks that made him study Roth so keenly. That was the excuse Jacob gave as he noted everything from the way Roth held himself to the rough texture of the man's voice. “Did you orchestrate that dognapping?”

“I did. They wanted to meet the lady, but thought you might make a scene. So I sent one of my men to cause a diversion.”

“Well, that man is dead,” Jacob huffed, annoyed at being so easily played. Roth shrugged at this news and called for another pint.

“Truth be told,” Roth went on, “I had another motivation: I wanted to meet you. I was going to send a letter but... opportunity.” He spread out an arm to indicate their surroundings.

Jacob swallowed the rest of his pint. What were the odds that he and Maxwell Roth would be in Devil's Acre at the same time? Running across his cronies was one thing, but the man himself? And for Roth to have a dog snatched just so he could meet with Jacob... well, it was flattering, in a strange way. Jacob found himself smiling at the older man.

“There was no need for you to be so theatrical, Mr. Roth.”

That got the other man to laugh. Jacob liked the look of it, how Roth's whole body seemed to throw itself into the merriment. “Oh, Jacob, my dear, you will come to learn that theatricality is a specialty of mine.”

“Oh, will I?” Jacob asked, his tone teasing. How was it so easy to be playful with this man? He couldn't explain it; there was just something magnetic about Roth.

“Excuse me, boss.” John the Tosser was back. Roth shot the man an irritated glare. “Uhm, Mrs. D says she's tired and would like to go home.”

Oh, bloody hell. Jacob had completely forgotten about Mrs. Disraeli. Thankfully she looked none the worse from his lack of attention. Jacob cleared his throat and awkwardly got to his feet.

“Right. I'll see her home, then.”

“We will depart as well,” Roth decided. He motioned to his Blighters, who broke their little party gathered around Mrs. Disraeli. Roth stepped close to Jacob. His fingers brushed the young man's side, sliding down to his hip. Jacob froze at the contact, his heart beating wildly and his breath catching in his throat. The heat from that touch was much more pleasant than it should have been.

Roth was leaning in close so his lips brushed Jacob's ear. “Come see me at the Alhambra.” He stepped back and went on his way.

Jacob stood for a few seconds more trying to pull himself together. The exchange likely took only a few seconds, but to him it felt like ages and yet far too quick at the same time. Jacob finally managed to focus back on Mrs. Disraeli, dutifully guiding her to her carriage and riding them back to her home. All the while he tried to make sense of what just happened.

He opened the door to let Mrs. Disraeli out. “My dear, you look flushed,” she noted. “Did you have a bit too much to drink?”

Hearing that endearment made Jacob think of Roth using it moments ago. “Ah, yes,” Jacob answered shakily, swallowing. “That's what it is. I think I'll take a walk to get some fresh air.”

He bade Mrs. Disraeli a good night and hurried off down the street with no destination in mind. Jacob could still feel the heat Roth's hand left behind, couldn't stop thinking of the man's breath teasing his skin. What the hell was happening to him? Jacob ran his hand through his hair and noticed for the first time the crinkle of paper in his vest pocket. Frowning, he pulled out the paper and saw it contained directions to the Alhambra Music Hall.

“Sneaky bastard,” Jacob muttered, shaking his head. The man really _was_ theatrical. And Jacob found himself looking forward to what Roth would do next. “See you soon,” he promised, and tucked the paper back in his pocket.


	2. Break In

The front entrance was the most obvious point, but when a first encounter consisted of a dog being snatched and drinks shared in London's most dangerous pub, the obvious approach was not the one to take. Jacob stood studying the music hall looking for alternatives. Light from inside told him that a performance was going on. He could theoretically slip in posing as an attendant to the show.

That idea was disregarded-- they likely were required to have tickets or some other proof of admittance.

Jacob took another turn around the building with his Eagle Vision serving to open up more possibilities. He was surprised to find not as much red within the music hall as he expected. Then again, this was supposed to be Roth's legitimate business; having too many Blighters around would ruin that public face. Jacob glanced up and caught sight of a balcony. Now, where could _that_ lead? 

He started scaling the next building over to get a better look. There were no lights coming from the balcony's windows, which meant this part of the music hall wasn't open to the public. Jacob got more curious. He jumped from one roof to the other, sliding down to land on the balcony. A quick pick of the lock and he was inviting himself inside.

Jacob found himself inside a sitting room with couches, bookshelves filled with a variety of volumes, a rug covering the otherwise wooden floor, and a currently unused fireplace. Had he stumbled upon Roth's private quarters? Jacob approached the bookshelves and used the light from outside to read the titles. He delighting that some of them matched with his own taste.

He heard the door handle turn and quickly moved into the shadows. Roth entered with a candle in hand. The man set about lighting up the room, drawing ever closer to Jacob's hiding place. Roth turned and their eyes met. Jacob couldn't help grinning at the shocked expression on the other man's face. Eventually Roth managed to compose himself.

“And you called _me_ theatrical. Was the door too difficult for you to find?”

“Here I thought you would appreciate this,” Jacob teased. “I saw the balcony and seized the opportunity.” His grin widened using the other man's words against him.

Roth let out an appreciative chuckle. “Do sit down, my dear. I'm afraid you caught me unprepared for guests.”

“Turnabout is fair play, Mr. Roth.” Jacob took the invitation, stretching out on the couch. As much as he loved the mobility of the train hideout, the compartments didn't offer much in terms of space.

Roth set his candle on the fireplace's mantle before joining Jacob. “I think you thoroughly dispensed of formalities when you broke into my room. Call me by my name.”

“All right... Max.” Roth's eyebrows went up at the nickname, but he didn't protest it. Perhaps, like everyone else in Jacob's life, he sensed that arguing against it would do him no good. Jacob puled the paper Max gave him out of his pocket. “You invited me,” he reminded the other.

“I did. Clearly I should have specified a point of arrival.” Judging by Max's expression, he was thrilled that Jacob chose such an unconventional approach. “And I didn't think you would accept so soon.”

“That's a lie,” Jacob snorted. “You grabbed a woman's dog just to get me away from my job as bodyguard, then snuck the directions to your music hall in my pocket. You had to know all that would get my attention.” Max's smile was enough of an answer. “Now that you have it,” Jacob went on, “what do you want?”

“A drink.” Max rose, going over to a cabinet. He took out a bottle and two glasses, bringing them over to the couch. He set the items down on the table, pouring out generous amounts of the liquid in each glass. “And a chance to speak with you away from my Blighters and your client.”

Jacob lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. This stuff was much better than anything he was used to drinking. He let out an approving sigh and took another sip.

“You needn't fear my retaliation for disposing of those other gang leaders,” Max mentioned. “Those were Starrick's men, and the fewer of them, the better, I say.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “That's a surprising attitude. Aren't _you_ one of Starrick's men?”

“It's true he lines my pockets, but his control has tightened more and more of late. I want it broken, and you've been working to do just that.”

“I assure you, Max, that it has been an extreme pleasure.” Max let out a cackle of delight, clinking their glasses together and throwing back the remains of his drink in a single gulp.

The man was fascinating; Jacob couldn't seem to take his eyes off Max. Maybe it was his years acting and performing in the circus helping Max be such a confident and commanding presence. He liked that Max seemed equally fascinated by him, his eyes hardly ever leaving Jacob's face as they talked and drank.

Max asked about what life was like on a train, and in turn provided some insights into running a music hall. This place wasn't just a front to him, though it did serve that purpose-- Max had a genuine passion for theater. If he was the star, Jacob would actually consider taking in a show.

Neither of them talked much about their respective gangs. As friendly and easy as things were between them, they were still rival leaders. There were plenty of other topics to take up their evening, and before long they had gone through Max's entire bottle. It was only after seeing it that Jacob finally felt the effects of the alcohol. He rose to leave but the room tilted at a weird angle and he fell back onto the couch.

“I could call a carriage for you,” Max suggested.

“No.” The last thing he wanted was for Evie to see him this way and start asking questions. “Just give me a moment.” Max nodded, moving to put away the glasses. Jacob took advantage of his absence by spreading himself out over the entire length of the couch. It was too short for his body so his legs dangled over the sides.

Even with the room spinning, Jacob didn't want to stop watching Max. He couldn't explain why he was so drawn to the man. The lights started to go out as Max blew out the candles for the evening. He made his way back over to Jacob, and the Assassin grinned at him.

“Bet you weren't expecting this when you invited me over.”

“No,” Max agreed. “I don't think I'll ever know what to expect from you, my dear.” Jacob couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, but something about Max's tone made those words sound like praise.

Max soon retired to his own room, leaving Jacob to sleep off the alcohol. It was more restful than it had any right to be.


	3. Closer

Jacob woke to the feeling of a cane being beaten against his skull. It was really just his body paying him back for the alcohol he consumed last night, but the two feelings were very similar. As he became more awake he found it wasn't just his head hurting-- his whole body was stiff. Jacob cracked open his eyes to remind himself why: he was stretched out on a couch in Maxwell Roth's sitting room.

His head told him he shouldn't be here, yet he couldn't muster any concern for his safety. Max had plenty of opportunities to do him harm and took none of them. Some understanding had passed between them. 

The sound of splashing water alerted him that he wasn't the only one awake. Jacob drew closer, curious to see if Max was also suffering the effects of their drinking.

He found the man washing up, his slicked hair glistening with water. This was hardly the first time Jacob saw a half-naked man-- it was common in the fight clubs-- but it was different when in the man's own home. It turned out Max was hiding muscle under his clothes and a few more scars to decorate his skin. Jacob traced the lines with his eyes. Max turned and greeted him with a smile.

“Good, you're awake. How are you feeling?”

“A bit like being bludgeoned in the head,” Jacob admitted.

Max let out a low chuckle. “I'll choose something a bit weaker next time.” _Next time?_ Max finished washing, unaware of the conflict of feelings those two words brought up. Max finished cleaning and stepped aside for Jacob's turn.

This was all far too comfortable and easy. “Do you... do this often?” Jacob asked him. “Invite rival gang leaders over?”

“You are the first, my dear.” 

Jacob was pleased to hear it. He finally stripped down and set about cleaning. Again, it should have concerned him that his weapons were within easy reach of a Blighter, but it didn't. As he washed he listened to Max move about the room getting ready for the day. Odd how they could both attend to morning routines as if Jacob's presence was completely normal.

“Beautiful.” Max's voice caught Jacob's attention and he turned. “Your tattoo,” the man clarified. “It's beautiful. Was it inked before or after you became leader of your gang?”

“Before.” It was only fair that Max would study him like this, as Jacob had done the same moments ago. Yet something about the man's stare made Jacob's heart pick up its pace in his chest.

“It suits you,” Max decided, and turned away again.

Jacob's face felt a little warmer as he finished up washing and dressed again. He intended to leave the same way he entered. Max had finished dressing himself and followed Jacob back to the sitting room.

“So... next time I'll come in through the front door?” Jacob ventured in a teasing tone.

“Come in through the back,” Max countered. He was studying Jacob again, and the Assassin was reluctant to move away from the gaze. Max was the one to break the contact, but only to fetch Jacob's cap from where it fell on the floor.

“I'd almost forgotten that,” Jacob noted, reaching for it. There was a moment when their fingers touched and he couldn't tell which of them allowed the contact to linger. This time it was Jacob to break it so he could set the cap back on his head. “I'll see you tonight,” he promised, and headed out onto the balcony. If Max responded, Jacob didn't hear.

He used the rope launcher to zip along the rooftops and carry him faster to the train. The air helped clear his head and allowed Jacob to think through the last few hours. Maxwell Roth intrigued him more than anyone he ever met. There was no doubt the man could be dangerous, but so could Jacob and Evie. Max seemed to hate Starrick's control of London as much as the twins so their interests were aligned.

Except Jacob's promise to come back tonight had nothing to do with that. He simply enjoyed the other man's presence and Max clearly enjoyed his.

The train was rolling closer to his position. Jacob let go of the rope in time to land on the roof and hopped down through the open window. Ned spared him a glance before getting back to work.

“You took your time getting back,” Evie noted in a disapproving tone. “I hope you didn't keep Mrs. Disraeli out too late.”

“Hardly. And I got the name of the target, by the way. I'll be taking care of it today.”

“Do try not to make a scene this time.”

“Oh, go look at flowers with Greenie,” Jacob retorted, rolling his eyes at her.

As he set about his work, Jacob couldn't help thinking of Max. The man would have thrived on making a scene; hell, he might have caused a bit of chaos just to make things more interesting. Though the mission wasn't without its entertaining moments.

“And then the prick started complaining about getting murdered,” Jacob said. “He went on and on about being a war hero. It was all so dull.” Max threw back his head and laughed.

The two of them were relaxing in Max's sitting room again. As requested, Jacob had entered through the back and was given a quick tour of the stage before Max steered him upstairs. Jacob had stretched himself out with his feet propped up on the table, but Max didn't seem to mind.

“Cardigan always did think too highly of himself. Shame death didn't teach him any humility.”

“At least it got him to shut up.” That got another laugh from Max. Jacob really liked the sound of it. He liked so many things about Max, like the way the candlelight accented the man's features or the spark in Max's eyes. Jacob dropped his feet from the table so he could shift a little closer.

This meeting was different from the night before. Jacob wasn't wearing his hidden blade and both of their coats were draped over an unused chair. Max had watched as Jacob removed the gauntlet from his arm. Its absence said much more than words.

Jacob lifted his arm, still not used to the difference in weight with the gauntlet gone, and brushed his thumb over where Max's scar ended on his chin. “I've heard lots of stories about you, but none that told of how you got this scar.”

“I got it same as all my others: in a fight.”

Max wasn't protesting the touch, so Jacob let his thumb glide up the scar. Max's lips parted and he took in a shaky breath. Jacob wondered if anyone ever touched Max this way before-- if he ever _allowed_ it. Why would he allow it now, and why was Jacob doing it?

“Most people find it gruesome,” Max told him.

“It suits you,” Jacob insisted.

They were very close now. Jacob's eyes traveled over the wrinkles on Max's face, the way his flesh healed around that scar, his neatly trimmed mustache. 

Jacob didn't know how it happened. One moment he was studying Max's face and in the next his lips were pressing firm against Max's mouth. The coarse hairs of Max's mustache tickled his nose and upper lip. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Jacob's heart raced, his body heating from excitement of the touch.

Jacob broke away, startled by the feeling. The kiss _excited_ him? He rose from the couch to put more space between him and Max. “I drank too much,” he blurted out. That had to be why he did such a thing... right? Jacob backed away until he bumped into the chair where he left his coat and gauntlet. He didn't bother try putting them on properly.

“I need some air,” Jacob decided. He opened the door to the balcony and was gone.


	4. Carriage Ride

He just kissed a man. Not just any man, but Maxwell Roth. Jacob wasn't sure which of these facts surprised him more. Of course above both of those was that feeling of excitement when their lips connected. He liked it, and blaming it on alcohol had been a bold-faced lie.

Jacob needed time to think and breathe. He needed to do anything other than think about Max.

Luckily there were still plenty of boroughs in London under Templar control. Jacob could funnel all his energy into bringing them down. After liberating some child laborers and taking out a Templar agent, he had all but put the incident out of his mind.

Jacob finished delivering a bounty for Freddy and was searching for the next thing to do when a carriage came rumbling toward him. He recognized the driver as Lewis, Max's servant. The carriage rolled to a stop and the door opened to reveal the man himself.

“Get in,” Max ordered. Jacob did so and Max closed the door behind him. “Have you been drinking?” Max asked him.

The question was so sudden Jacob didn't know what to make of it. “No.”

The word barely left his mouth before Max closed in on him. Jacob felt the firm press of lips and Max's hand on his cheek. There was only shock at first but that quickly gave way to excitement and heat. Jacob's eyes fell closed and he pressed back against those lips.

Why not? That was Max's philosophy, wasn't it?

Max broke the kiss, tracing a finger down the scar cutting through Jacob's eyebrow. “Do you need some air?”

“No,” he growled defiantly. He shoved Max against the carriage's side and kissed the man again. He had a taste for it now and wanted more. He was going to seize this opportunity while he had it.

A small part of his brain wondered if he really should like kissing another man this much, but it was quickly consumed by the heat he and Max shared. Maybe not just any man, but Maxwell Roth? Yes, Jacob liked that. His fingers moved up to touch Max's hair and was rewarded with a little sigh from the man.

“Are you expected anywhere, my dear?”

“No.” Jacob studied their current position with half-lidded eyes. From the moment they met he felt an inexplicable pull toward Max. With their kisses the pull became so strong that Jacob had pinned the man against the carriage and climbed on him. He let out a little snort. “Does it look like I want to go anywhere?”

Max answered with another kiss, this one light and quick. “Then I'll have Lewis drive for a while.” He knocked on the carriage's roof. It began to rumble as the horses moved forward at a leisurely pace.

Somehow this didn't surprise Jacob at all. He could already feel himself drawn to kiss Max again, but first he wanted to test something. When he leaned in, he directed his mouth to the man's cheek, pressing it directly over Max's scar. The reaction was more or less what Jacob expected: Max gasped, his hand moving to grip onto Jacob's shoulder. He pulled back but didn't see rejection on the older man's face.

“No one's ever done that,” Jacob guessed.

“No one's wanted to,” Max corrected him.

Jacob couldn't understand why. It was a striking feature, detracting nothing from Max's appearance. He brushed his nose along the cut before finding his way back to Max's mouth. Max's hand shifted from Jacob's shoulder to the back of his neck. His other hand slid along Jacob's side, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Breathing was getting more difficult. Partly from the heat escalating between them, and partly because hardly any time was allowed for breaths between their kisses. Max's lips were becoming more hungry, more demanding the longer they continued. Jacob responded, rolling toward the man wanting everything he was offering. He didn't even fully know what it was he wanted but he was caught in this and Max had so far proven to delight him no matter what he did.

It came as a surprise when the rumbling slowed and finally stopped. They were stopping? Jacob pulled back, questioning Max with his eyes. Max's fingers brushed up the back of his neck, making him shiver.

“Max.” Jacob swallowed, pushing the man even more firmly against the carriage, not wanting him to escape. “You could tell Lewis to take another loop around.”

“Do you even know what you're asking for, my dear?”

“I think you want to show me.” A new thought occurred to him, and Jacob added, “I think you wanted to show me from the moment we met.”

Max chuckled and kissed him yet again. “You kissed me first,” he reminded Jacob. “Then jumped out of the window.”

“And you had your servant drive you over to find me and get me in this carriage,” Jacob pointed out.

“You seem to respond best when I demand your attention.”

Jacob couldn't argue with that. He didn't want to; he wanted to occupy Max's mouth in other ways. The kisses were slower now as they learned the shape of each other's mouths.

“Join me for dinner,” Max breathed. Jacob made an assertive noise. He felt Max gently push him back. “I will need time to prepare the meal.”

Oh. Right. Jacob untangled himself and opened the carriage door. He threw Max one last look before stepping out. It was like waking from a surreal dream. He knew it happened but it didn't feel entirely real. But then he looked at his rumpled clothes where Max had touched him, and was assured.

How long would it take Max to prepare dinner? Jacob was already eager to see him again and continue following the man down this path, wherever it led.


	5. Plans

Jacob tried to pay attention as Ned talked him through cargo routes that could be exploited, but his mind kept drifting away. He thought of the tickle of mustache hair and the brush of fingers on the back of his neck. This was dangerous in so many ways but also exciting and thrilling. Jacob wanted it, and Max had gone through a lot of trouble to show he wanted it, too.

“Jacob?” Ned snapped his fingers in front of the Assassin's face. “Anyone there?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“You don't seem quite as into this as usual,” Ned frowned. 

“I am,” Jacob assured him. “I'm thinking of where to start.” Ned's frown deepened, his eyes scrutinizing Jacob. Whatever it was he saw, Ned didn't address it. He resumed his talk and this time Jacob forced himself to focus on the words.

It struck him that he hadn't seen much of Evie lately. They hadn't talked since the assassination of Lord Cardigan. Probably for the best, as Evie would likely have some choice words on how Jacob handled the situation. He didn't even want to think of what she would say if she knew what he was doing now. Just the idea of him accepting a dinner invitation from Max would inspire a disapproving look. It was for the best that she run around with Greenie, or whatever was taking up her time.

Jacob arrived at the back entrance to the Alhambra later that evening. Lewis was there to admit him; Jacob grinned and tipped his hat to the man, but only got a blank stare for his efforts. It was surprising that Max would employ such a dull person.

A table was laid out on the stage with steaming food and bowls of fruit. A few workers were milling about getting the place ready for a performance. Jacob briefly tapped into his sixth sense but found no red auras. When he focused on Max, the man glowed bright yellow. He let his vision shift back to normal. Max had his back turned to Jacob, busying himself with pouring them drinks. When he turned he greeted Jacob with a smile.

“Ah, Jacob. How good of you to come. Do sit down.” Jacob did and Max soon joined him. The two of them tapped their mugs together before taking a drink.

“I know you are theatrical, but taking your meals on the stage is a bit much, isn't it?” Jacob teased.

“I enjoy the company.” Max gave him a look that made his meaning clear. Jacob's heart fluttered and he stared down at the floor for a moment before focusing back on Max. “Besides,” Max resumed, “I like to be close at hand when we're nearly ready for a performance.”

Jacob felt disappointment sink down in him. Did Max intend to spend his time with Jacob here? Not that he wasn't interested in watching the stage transform, but he thought they would have more privacy. Jacob helped himself to some food as a distraction.

“So... you took out another gang leader recently.”

“Does that bother you?” Jacob challenged. Their heated moment in the carriage hardly spoke of a disapproving man, but still, those were Max's men Jacob took out. Max assured him with a shake of the head. Max's hand dropped down to squeeze Jacob's knee.

“I told you I want Starrick taken down. Those gang leaders were put in place by _him_ , not me. In fact, I've been thinking of how else we can cripple him.”

“ 'We' ?” Jacob leaned forward.

“You know me, Jacob: I see an opportunity and I seize it. And I see one to have a little fun with the bravest man in London.” The low growl in his voice made Jacob swallow hard. “I have the plans in my study,” Max mentioned. “If you're ready.”

Jacob nodded, following Max down the now-familiar path to the man's room. They hardly touched the meal but the stage workers would likely finish the rest. The first thing Jacob noticed on entering was the open door that led out to the balcony.

“What's this? Kicking me out already?”

“I thought to give you the option.”

“You're not going to let me live it down, are you?” Jacob sighed, rolling his eyes. Max flashed him a mischievous smile. Smirking back, Jacob grabbed the man's hand and pulled him outside. “If you really think I'm going to leave, why wouldn't you stop me?”

Max turned to face him, barely leaving any space between them. Slowly he backed them up until Jacob hit the side of the building.

“I don't make a habit of forcing people to stay. I would rather them be free to build and shape the world as they will. It's why I want to help you take down Starrick.”

“Your plan,” Jacob clarified. He slid his hands under Max's coat to press against the man's back and bring him closer. “Tell me about it.”

Max leaned in closer so he was tickling Jacob's ear. He told the Assassin about a train that carried munitions for Starrick. He knew its routine and could guide Jacob there for the other to take it out. It was a smart plan with just a touch of madness. Jacob loved the idea. He agreed to help, sealing the promise with a kiss.

That was clearly what Max was waiting for. He responded with a fierceness that stole Jacob's breath. He pressed the younger man more firmly against the building. Jacob could break away if he wanted but had no desire to do so. He wanted to keep feeling Max's body close to his. When they broke for air their lips were still very close; Max didn't want to stray too far from Jacob, either.

Jacob wanted to try something-- to “seize the opportunity”. He let his tongue move out to brush delicately over Max's bottom lip. This time it was the older man whose breath was stolen.

“You've done this before,” Max accused him.

“Not with a man.” Jacob tilted his head back enough to watch Max's face as he asked, “Have you?”

“With a man,” Max confirmed, “but it was a long time ago.”

Jacob leaned in, brushing his tongue over Max's lip again. He liked how the man responded to that. “What about in a carriage?”

“That was a first,” Max admitted with a heated chuckle.

“On a rooftop?”

“Not yet.”

Jacob took that as a challenge. He slipped away from Max, grabbing the roof's ledge and hoisting himself up. He turned intending to help Max up but the man was clamoring up easily on his own.

“Come,” Max gestured. “I've always wanted to see the view from the Alhambra's roof.” Jacob grinned and followed after him. The man was surprisingly nimble and managed to keep his balance. The two of them made it up and took a moment to appreciate the view. It really was lovely up here with the Strand spreading out all around them.

“I think we should deal with that train tomorrow,” Jacob mentioned. “That is,” he added, “if you don't mind me using your couch again.”

Max brushed his hand up Jacob's jawline to cup his cheek, bringing their faces closer. His tongue traced over Jacob's bottom lip, making the younger man tremble.

“Why not?” His tongue moved in between Jacob's parted lips.


	6. A Confession

The plan was pure chaos. Jacob jumped onto a moving train in order to reach the station. He spotted the alarm bell right away and set to sabotaging it before any of the guarding Blighters saw him. But stealth was never Jacob's strong point and he was spotted. He beat the Blighter into the ground, the noise catching the attention of others. A small pile of bodies formed before Jacob could finally sabotage the bell.

Then he set about destroying the dynamite, and each explosion got the attention of Blighters. The only bit that went smoothly was when he kidnapped a conductor.

“Well done, my dear,” Max praised him. “I'll see you this evening.” He raised a hand in farewell, disappearing with the train. Jacob would have liked to go with him, but the close quarters would be far too tempting. There would be plenty of time for them to enjoy each other's company later.

Jacob made it back to the hideout and found his sister with her nose in a book as always. Jacob peered over her shoulder to get a better look.

“What's this? Something _not_ related to that Shroud?”

“I thought it a good idea to clear my head.” Evie tried moving the book away but Jacob snatched it from her. Page after page of pressed flowers, each one carefully labeled in Evie's hand with a short description of its meaning.

“Yes, I can see you're doing very important work here.”

“It's for Henry,” Evie snapped, grabbing the book away.

“Oh, it's _Henry_ now, is it?”

“It's not like that.” Evie could deny it all she liked, but Jacob knew her mannerisms and picked up her fluster. “Henry is merely curious about the custom and I'm assisting him.”

Jacob let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I honestly can't tell if you're being this dense on purpose or you honestly can't tell when a man is trying to get your attention.”

“And what would you know about that?” Evie challenged him. The words knocked the smile off his face. Evie immediately caught the silence. “Jacob? Do you... fancy someone?”

He couldn't find his words. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how to categorize what was happening between him and Max. The man was exciting and chaotic, dangerous and intelligent. Jacob felt free to be as reckless and wild as he liked. Even if he wanted to tell his sister all this, where would he start? And which part would she disapprove of more?

“You do,” Evie decided. “Well? Who is she, then?”

Jacob took a slow breath. For all their fighting and opposing views, they were twins. Evie was the only one who might understand. “It's not...”

“Not what?” Evie watched him, her eyes slowly widening. “Not a 'she'?” She read the answer in his face. Evie wore a surprised but calculated expression. “Is it Ned?” she finally asked.

“What?” Jacob couldn't help laughing at the suggestion. “God, no.” All right, Ned was attractive in his way, but the interest had been fleeting.

Evie was mentally working through their male associates. She squinted at Jacob. “It isn't Henry, is it?”

“Definitely not. You're welcome to him.”

“I don't--” Evie stopped herself, instead changing the subject. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since the night I escorted Mrs. Disraeli.” Evie rolled her eyes at him. She didn't need to say a word for Jacob to know what that look meant: _You would meet someone at Devil's Acre._ It was actually surprising how well she took all this. She wasn't scolding him or acting disgusted or... even all that surprised, really. Jacob pointed this out to her.

“Nothing about you surprises me, Jacob.” She was teasing him but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. Though it made him wonder if she would still take it so well if she knew who it was Jacob fancied. As if reading his mind, Evie added, “You'll be careful, won't you? You could go to jail for that sort of thing, or worse.”

“Believe me, I know.” There was a heavy silence between them. Then Jacob decided the mood needed to be lightened. “Speaking of jail, I heard you were locked up and doing a sort of chicken dance.”

“I was hypnotized!” Evie protested. “And who told you about that?” Jacob laughed, and the two of them fell back in to bickering.

The conversation kept him in a good mood all the way to the Alhambra. Evie knowing anything about what was going on was a weight lifted from his shoulders. She couldn't resist reminding him of their father's ideas about personal attachments, and Jacob countered by remind her about Henry Green. They had both become enamored with the men they were working with.

Jacob barely walked through the back door when Max greeted him. “You're in a good mood,” Jacob observed.

“We struck a hard blow to Starrick today, my dear.” Max was barely able to contain his energy. He all but dragged Jacob up to his quarters. Once the door was closed Max had his arms wrapped around Jacob's neck and his lips funneling his energy into kisses. “You were magnificent,” Max purred.

“I'm glad you liked it.” This was exactly what would have happened had he gone with Max on the train. Jacob broke from the kiss to press his lips against Max's scar. “I told my sister,” he confessed. “She guessed, really. I didn't mention you by name, but she knows I fancy a man.”

Max pulled back from Jacob's lips. “I was right to call you a brave man. How did she take it?”

“She said nothing about me surprised her.”

Max let out a low chuckle. “Must be a twin thing. I find you very surprising, my dear.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Jacob leaned in for more kisses.

This time he didn't ask if he could spend the night; he simply decided he would, taking off his hat, coat, and gauntlet to make himself more comfortable. He and Max exchanged more words and kisses as they slowly migrated to the couch. Just like their interlude in the carriage, Jacob found himself pressing up against Max until the other man's back was against the couch's arm rest. He climbed on Max to keep the other man in place.

“Jacob.” Max's fingers brushed up the back of the younger man's neck. “It should go without saying, but I fancy you, too.”

“Good.” Jacob combed through Max's hair. “I'd hate to think you've just been humoring me this whole time. One of your amusements.” He was teasing but there was a bit of underlying truth in the words.

“My dear Jacob, you are far more than an amusement.” Max pulled him in, his kisses feeling like they contained more heat and hunger than before.

Jacob matched the heat and hunger with his own. Max was responsive to him, welcoming his probing tongue. It wasn't just Jacob trying to get closer to Max, but both of them straining to be close to each other. Like having verbal confirmation that they wanted each other opened something inside them. They shifted trying to make the most of the small space on the couch.

“Try the floor,” Max suggested. “On your back.”

“Why?”

“Because you never fucked a man before. And I'm going to show you how.”


	7. On the Thames

Jacob woke with his body a little stiff from sleeping on the floor. He was surprisingly warm even though there was nothing covering him, and a glance to his left showed him why: another body was beside his, turned toward him with a hand resting on his chest. A part of him wanted to close his eyes and enjoy this, but another part wanted to seize this opportunity of observing Max while he slept.

The man looked different, his face peaceful and body still. Jacob already knew Max was strong, agile, and full of energy, and had seen those things in different ways last night. He was incredibly patient, too, as he and Jacob worked off layers of clothing and used hands and mouths to explore the newly exposed flesh. It felt so _right_ when the last layer was finally gone and they were flesh on flesh.

Jacob learned he liked when his chest hair was touched. Max liked Jacob kissing the scar on his face so Jacob did the same for all the scars he could find on Max's body. He found he could make Max produce all sorts of interesting noises if he touched and kissed the man in just the right way. The noises Jacob made when Max did the same made the Assassin very glad the door to the balcony wasn't open.

He had no gauge to tell how any of this was supposed to feel. Jacob fucked women before but this was something new. Max could match him strength for strength, wildness for wildness; it was easy to lose track of which one of them had control of the moment. When Max's hands gripped Jacob's shoulders it didn't feel like he was being pinned, but rather that the other man simply needed something to hold on to.

Jacob suppressed a groan as thinking about last night woke his arousal. The way Max was positioned, he might even feel Jacob getting hard. Sure enough, Max's eyes opened and they immediately found what woke him.

“I'll take care of it,” he said, voice light in amusement. Before Jacob could say a word, Max's hand was on him stroking him to be fully hard. Just when he thought that was how Max would get him off, he felt the man's hot, wet mouth.

“Oh, shit!” It was hard to tell with his thoughts scattering, but it felt like Max was enjoying this just as much as Jacob. Jacob shuddered, pushing himself into it in the same slow and deep way Max had last night. Jacob found himself moaning the man's name-- not the shortened “Max”, but his full name. The urgency of Max's lips and tongue seemed to change slightly when Jacob did that. Max's mouth didn't release him until Jacob was finished, and even then he did so slowly.

“Get up when you're ready,” Max told him, patting the younger man's thigh and rising to his feet.

No time to himself would get Jacob to calm down. Just being around Max promised he would feel excited and energized, ready for whatever plan the other had in mind. Eventually he gave up the effort and got to his feet. He could hear water running. It'd been a long time since he used a shower, and he would certainly need one after the mess he and Max made of each other.

Naturally Max was absolutely shameless stepping out of the shower. The bold way he stood there, body still wet, was extremely arousing. Jacob closed in and pressed both hands to Max's back to get him close for a kiss. With no clothes between them Jacob was more highly aware of every angle of Max's body. Especially the way the man's cock felt pressed to Jacob's thigh.

He knew the feel of that cock now, how big it seemed when it pushed inside him, the way it stretched and filled him. Jacob heard Max sigh and the man stepped away.

“Some cold water may do you good, my dear.”

“You're telling me I don't affect you?” Jacob questioned.

Max's expression turned serious. He ran a hand slowly up Jacob's chest, fingers tracing the lines of the other man's tattoo. “You do. More than you know. But we both have business to attend to today.”

“Another plan?”

“I'll tell you when you're dressed.”

Jacob was tempted to keep Max close, but he was also interested in hearing the man's next idea against Starrick. He did as Max suggested and splashed cold water on his body. It did wonders in cooling his arousal, as did seeing Max more dressed when Jacob was finished washing. Max had helpfully laid out Jacob's clothes on the couch, and the younger man got the satisfaction of knowing Max couldn't pull his eyes away as Jacob dressed.

“Better?” Jacob spread out his arms so Max could get a good view.

“Slightly less distracting,” Max nodded. “Now for the plan. What are your thoughts on kidnapping?”

Jacob didn't expect Max to want the three kidnap victims conscious, but after hearing the exchange between Max and the first, he understood. This was another one of Max's amusements. And Jacob really loved listening to the delight Max took in all of it.

The Blighters took over when Jacob delivered the victims to the boat. They noted Jacob's presence but didn't question it. The three victims had their hands bound behind their backs and their legs tied together, each one threatening Max and shooting murderous looks at Jacob. As the boat drifted farther down the Thames it became less likely the three would escape safely but Jacob still hovered close to make sure.

Jacob knew how this was all going to end. Still, Max had a way of finding the entertainment in it, and Jacob had no regrets on there being fewer of Starrick's people in the world. Max was smart about it, too, dumping each of the bodies across several meters of the river and making the wounds look like they could have been inflicted by anyone. Freddy certainly wouldn't be able to tell that Jacob had anything to do with this, but Jacob was going to do the man the courtesy of warning him about the bodies anyway.

“Did you have fun?” Jacob wondered. The two of them found a secluded spot on the boat and immediately drew together. Jacob now had his head resting on Max's shoulder with the man's arm around him.

“Yes.” Max chuckled. “I liked the looks on their faces.”

“You do have a way of getting people's attention.” Max chuckled again, fingers brushing through Jacob's hair. “We should do this again,” Jacob said after a moment. “Riding on the Thames, I mean. The kidnapping was fun, but I like having you to myself.”

Max's hand slid down to Jacob's face, turning him so they faced each other. Jacob was beginning to recognize that heated look in the other man's eyes. Jacob wet his lips and shifted a little closer.

“You're always the one coming up with our 'amusements'. Let me come up with something this time.” After what they did last night and this morning, Jacob hadn't expected to be so affected by a simple smile from Max. Yet he was. “One of my associates is always keeping track of Templar-owned cargo around London,” Jacob continued. His knee bumped against Max's hip. “Some of them are cargo ships. We could sabotage one of them together.”

Max's smile widened, slow and sharp. “I like the way you think.”

When they docked the boat, Max sent his Blighters off saying he would get a ride back to the Alhambra on his own. Once they were gone Jacob led Max to one of the ships Ned had told him about. He and Max took opposite ends of the boat. Jacob wasn't sure at first if Max would willingly take out the Blighters guarding the cargo but before long he heard the familiar sound of fists on skin and the thud of a body.

It was satisfying in a different way than the kidnappings: not as grand a scale in terms of hurting Starrick, but still a blow.

“This reminds me of how I met you,” Max mentioned once the deck was clear. “You hijacked a cart full of cargo meant for the Templars. I saw you driving by with that devilish smile of yours and knew I had to find out more about you.”

“So I'm not the only one who responds best when their attention is demanded.” Jacob's hands gripped onto the labels of Max's coat, tugging the man closer. “Then I shall demand it, Maxwell.”

Max's fingers slid around Jacob's belt. “Say my name again.”

“Maxwell.” He pressed their lips together, hungry and needing.

The heat had already sparked between them from the kidnapping; Jacob thrilled feeling Max just as hungry for him. All the patience he showed last night was gone as he fumbled with Jacob's belt and trousers. They found a space between boxes of sabotaged cargo where they could fit against each other.

There were too many damn layers. Jacob made up for it by kissing over Max's face and neck while he pulled the man's cock out. The two helped each other work off the energy built up from the kidnapping and sabotage. Jacob alternated between using “Max” and “Maxwell” and Max dropped the word _dear_ and ended up muttering “my Jacob”.

Jacob wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if Max was caught up in the moment. He didn't mention it just in case, but once they were done and he had his head back on Max's shoulder, he let the words repeat in his mind.


	8. Bank Fiasco

Fred Abberline was in his actual uniform when he met with Jacob on the Thames shoreline. His face was set in a grimly accepting line as he watched the others pull the third body out of the river. He hadn't said anything at all when Jacob tipped him off, only gave a long-suffering sigh. He had long since decided he didn't want to know any details about Jacob or Evie's business; knowing fewer details probably made it easier for him to excuse not clapping them both in cuffs.

He stepped forward to get a closer look at the third victim. “What the bloody hell!” He rounded on Jacob. “This is a police officer!”

“I know.”

“Did _you_ kill him?”

“I thought you didn't want to know those sorts of details,” Jacob hedged.

Freddy let out a despairing groan. “But you killed a police officer!”

“He was in Starrick's pocket,” Jacob argued. “Anyway, it wasn't me who killed him. I just kidnapped him from Scotland Yard.”

“You--!!” Freddy stopped, breathing heavily through his nose. “Fine,” he huffed. “I'll find some way to keep this from turning into an investigation. It's not as if I'm not already up to my eyeballs in the bank fiasco.”

“What bank fiasco?” Jacob demanded.

“The one _you_ caused by murdering Twopenny. Thanks to you nobody trusts British currency and there are counterfeits popping up all over the place! If this goes on there will be riots in the streets!”

Jacob never saw Freddy so furious before. He stubbornly held his ground, though. It'd been Freddy who pointed Jacob to Twopenny in the first place, and now the man was angry at him because of the outcome? And how sad that the economy was so fragile that one man's death could threaten it. Jacob couldn't help thinking that Max would find all of this incredibly entertaining.

“You can't blame me for any of that,” Jacob huffed. “The man was corrupt, and all that just shows what a tight grip he had on this city. Look,” he added a bit more amicably, “I'll have my Rooks out to help control any rioting and I'll look into those counterfeits. All right?”

Freddy glared at him a moment longer before giving a nod. Jacob was relieved; as often as he toed the line of the law, he really did like Freddy. He didn't want to lose the man's goodwill.

Jacob clapped the man on the shoulder and headed off. He could have gone back to the bank and used his sixth sense to search for clues, but it didn't seem like a good idea with how he left the place on his last trip. Besides, he had another way of learning about criminal activity.

He checked the balcony first before letting himself in through the back door. The stage was really coming together with scenery pieces in place and the backdrop hung. Jacob easily spotted Max standing at the front of the stage. The man was focused on directing certain set pieces to be moved and didn't notice Jacob right away. Jacob was content enough watching Max in his element until the older man's attention drew to him.

“Jacob! What a pleasant surprise to see you, my dear!” Max waved at the others to continue their work and approached the Assassin. “I'm afraid I don't have new amusements for us just yet.” 

“Maybe I do. I was speaking with one of my contacts and he told me about some counterfeit currency going around the market. I was wondering if you knew anything about it.”

Max let out a thoughtful noise, tapping his chin. “I believe I may have heard something about that. Give me a few hours and I can learn more.”

Jacob thanked him and moved to leave. But he quickly spun back again, grabbing Max by the coat and kissing him. He kept the contact just long enough to feel Max respond to him. “There. Almost forgot that.” To his delight, Max actually looked flustered. Jacob released him and walked out with a smug smile on his face.

He called for a carriage and rode to his nearest territory where he could meet up with his Rooks. They confirmed that the civilian unrest was growing and agreed to do all they could to keep the streets calm. Jacob caught a few Rooks driving by and asked them to spread the word. Even with their help and zipping across the rooftops, it took some time for Jacob to meet with Rooks in every borough they controlled. Plenty of time for Max to gather what information he could.

Once again Jacob found the man on the stage. Max excitedly gestured him over when Jacob arrived. “Take a look at this, my dear. What do you think?”

Jacob already saw the set pieces and backdrop, but standing with Max at the front of the stage he could get a better picture. The pieces looked like flames, the backdrop a scene of twisted trees and cragged mountains. “Looks a bit like Hell,” he decided. “Or what people depict as Hell.”

“Excellent,” Max cackled. “That's the very idea. Now, on to your inquiry. My people told me that some industrious person took advantage of the confusion left by Twopenny's death and stole printing plates from the bank. If this wasn't negatively affecting you I would be delighted.”

Jacob nodded; he thought as much. “So did your people tell you who stole the plates?”

“Better: they got an address for the whole operation.”

“And you want to come along,” Jacob guessed.

“Why not?”

There was no sense in arguing and, if Jacob was honest, he was glad Max wanted to come along. Even if the man probably saw it as just another bit of entertainment. The two of them stepped outside where Jacob let out a sharp whistle to call a Rook-driven carriage. He explained his errand to them and though they were a bit dubious of Max's presence, they obediently took the man's directions.

In most of his outings with Max, Jacob did most of the work. He was expecting to do the same here but Max spotted crates of dynamite and suggested he set them up while Jacob distracted the counterfeiters. Jacob delightedly agreed. He tucked his hat away and pulled down his hood.

There looked to be maybe half a dozen counterfeiters using printing presses. The scene reminded Jacob a similar one where he helped Charles Darwin. Of course that operation had been relatively harmless by comparison and Darwin even found some amusement in the caricature. Jacob crept through the area, whistling for the counterfeiters and picking them off one by one. He could hear Max moving about, impressively quiet as he set up the dynamite.

Jacob made sure to grab the plates before they blew the place apart.

“Thank you,” he said once they were riding away. “I know you probably would have preferred leaving things in chaos.”

“Not at your expense, my dear.”

Jacob grinned, knowing he was blushing. “Anyway, I need to get on returning these plates to the bank. I'll see you tonight.”

“I shall await your arrival with eager anticipation.”

Jacob pulled the carriage to a stop in front of the Alhambra. Max leaned toward him and kissed him. Jacob was caught off-guard by the gesture. There was no one currently on the street but still, anyone could come by and see the intimate moment. Max released Jacob with a satisfied smirk, hopping out of the carriage and disappearing inside the music hall.

Jacob let his body slump a little, a hand running over his face. That man was going to keep leading Jacob deeper into danger. And of course Jacob would let him because God help him, he liked it.


	9. Bravest Man in London

Jacob's imagination made an educated guess on Evie's expression should she learn what he was planning to do. Hell, just about any Assassin would be incredulous and disapproving. But Max wasn't a Templar; he only worked for one, and even then was fighting to be free. Still, Jacob used an unmanned carriage when he invited Max on a drive that evening to be sure his Rooks couldn't take the story back to anyone.

“I trust your errand to the bank went well,” Max said conversationally.

“The economy will survive another day.” Jacob's eyes momentarily left the road. Max was watching their progress with growing interest. He didn't ask for their destination, preferring the surprise.

Jacob pulled the horses to a stop in front of Big Ben. He was pulling off his gauntlet as Max moved to join him. He held the object out for Max.

“What's this?”

“Put it on,” Jacob urged by way of answer. Max stared at him, his keen eyes studying Jacob in wonderment. He took the gauntlet and slid it onto his right forearm. Jacob opened his mouth to correct this but then stopped. Max would do things his own way. “Right. So you see the spire there?” He pointed to a spot on the building next to the clocktower. “Point your hand at it.”

Max was puzzled now but did as Jacob instructed. Jacob moved close so he could adjust the angle properly, then showed Max the mechanism that would shoot out a grappling hook. That got Max's eyes to light up in excitement. Jacob grinned, running toward the building and kicked off the ground to climb. He heard the hook shoot out and watched Max's form fly past his head. Jacob took leaps upward but of course Max got there first.

“Fantastic!” Max declared. There was always a bit of wildness in him but it seemed more pronounced now. Jacob was exhilarated from the climb and his eyes searched for where they could go next. His eyes naturally moved to the clocktower, following up to its peak. All he needed to do was point.

They sat together above Ben's face, legs dangling over the side. Max had returned the gauntlet and now leaned back, his head tilting up to the sky. Jacob mimicked the pose. He loved this: being so high that it felt there was nothing but him and the open air. It was why he was drawn to birds, why he wanted one forever etched on his skin. He imagined Max had a similar inclination-- a quick glance showed him the man was smiling, eyes nearly closed.

Jacob was used to feeling drawn to Max, to be attracted to every part of him. But looking at him now, Jacob was getting a different sensation. It made him warm and caused his heart to race, but it wasn't attraction or lust. Jacob turned his gaze away before he could get a full grasp of the emotion.

“Do you want to race the way down?” Max asked him.

“We're not climbing.” Jacob scanned the ground, tapping into his sixth sense to get a better view. He found what he wanted and got to his feet. He could feel Max watching as Jacob balanced on the very edge. “We're flying.”

“You're going to jump?”

Jacob glanced over his shoulder and shot the man a grin. “Why not?” He let his arms fall open at his sides as he tipped forward. He remembered the first time he watched an Assassin do this, the strange mixture of relaxation and control their bodies held as they soared gracefully down. It took many sprains and bruises before Jacob got it right.

It was effortless for him now. Jacob twisted his body so he landed on his back in the pile of hay he spotted above. He quickly sprang out so Max would have a clear landing. He could barely see the man's figure in the darkness. There was no doubt in Jacob's mind that Max would take the leap, and sure enough Max came careening downward. His body held a different sort of practice and control than an Assassin but still remarkably similar. He even performed the proper twist to land on his back.

Max popped out of the hay, spreading his arms out wide and taking a bow.

“Wow,” Jacob gasped. “That was impressive.”

“I was in the circus, my dear.”

Jacob chuckled and moved to pluck a piece of hay out of Max's hair. Both of them were flushed and breathless from the adrenaline. “I can't wait to get you home and fuck you,” Jacob declared.

Max caught the implications of that phrasing just as Jacob did. Neither of them addressed it, though. A slow smile spread over Max's lips.

There was an impatient urgency between them when they did finally make it to Max's room. There was more of an attempt at getting undressed than their encounter on the cargo ship-- coat, shoes, belt-- but the fire between them became too consuming to wait for more.

“Fuck me, Jacob.” It was hard to tell if this was a demand, an invitation, or a challenge. Probably a bit of all three.

Jacob was eager to show he was paying attention when Max taught him how to do this. Too eager, maybe, his touches faster than Max's had been. But that only delighted his partner. The couch seemed suddenly very far away. Jacob pushed Max up against the wall instead. 

“Your ass is so tight,” Jacob said at one point. That got a laugh from Max. Jacob rolled his eyes at the man but ended up smiling, too. Eventually Jacob had to give up on talking. The only word he could manage was Max's name, and even then he said _Maxwell_. Max used his name quite frequently, sometimes sounding like an encouragement and other times like a plea.

“That was impressive,” Max noted when they were done.

“I had a good teacher.”

Now that they were sated they could finish undressing at a more leisurely pace. Max started putting his clothes on the couch so Jacob did the same. There was enough desire still stirring that Jacob shamelessly eyed Max's body as it was gradually exposed to him. At least he wasn't the only one: he caught Max staring too, heat in his gaze. Finally the last piece of clothing was gone. Max threw Jacob a smirk and headed into the bedroom; heart racing, Jacob followed.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Max mentioned, “but you distracted me.” Jacob waited and Max reached out for his hand, his fingers caressing between Jacob's knuckles. “I was curious about your weapon. It isn't usual for an Assassin, is it?”

“No,” Jacob admitted. He knew others used their fists in a fight but not usually as their primary weapon. As far as he knew, all those who came before deferred to something that would kill from a distant and subtle way. Jacob was the opposite of subtle, as Evie liked to remind him. “It's really just me,” Jacob said out loud.

Max didn't pursue the line of questioning farther but Jacob could see the other man was planning something.

In the morning Jacob delayed leaving Max's room longer than he probably should have. Partly because he wanted to give Max a good morning, and partly because being here almost felt like a different world. Eventually he remembered his duties to the city and went on his way. There was no need to promise he would return that evening as his appearances were becoming routine.

It actually wasn't a half-bad system. He and Evie could continue chipping away at the Templars' power with a bit of recreation through races and fights, and he and Max could have their own entertainments.

He returned that evening to find Max sitting in a carriage waiting for him. For once Max was on the driver's side. Intrigued, Jacob hopped on. Max drove off and Jacob quickly recognized the route. Jacob made a mental note to ask Aleck to make another rope launcher. When they got there Max started climbing up the side and Jacob hurried to join him. Max seemed eager to get to the ledge so Jacob matched him, turning it into a race.

“Here.” Max handed him a parcel.

Jacob opened it and was greeted by copper knuckles. Now Max's earlier question made sense. He slipped off the ones he was wearing to try these. They were a bit tight for some of the fingers but at least they wouldn't slip off when he got in a fight. Jacob's emotions scrambled as he processed this gift. There was no denying how he felt about Maxwell Roth now. The man kept doing everything in his power to catch and keep Jacob's attention-- a nabbed dog, a carriage ride, chaotic plans against Starrick.

 _You have it,_ Jacob wanted to tell him. _You've had it for ages. Don't you know that?_ He turned his hand over and caught the word engraved along the weapon. Oh. Max wasn't trying to get Jacob's attention this time, but showing in his own way just how much Jacob had his.

“Maxwell.” He used the man's full name. “I love you.”

Max let out a breath. “You truly are, without a doubt, the bravest man in London.” He reached out to take Jacob by the hand and leaned in until their foreheads touched.

Jacob closed his eyes and let the moment linger as long as Max wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout-out to GavImp for their amazing edits. Go see the one that inspired scenes from this chapter here: https://deadlysequence.tumblr.com/post/624906290457657344/jacob-and-maxwell-climbing-the-big-ben-together


	10. Murdered Crow

Jacob and Evie had their heads together looking over their map of London. Information given to them by their various contacts helped fill it out with remaining Templar agents, factories where they could free child laborers, bounties they could collect, and so on. Only two boroughs were left with such influences: the Strand and Westminster.

“I think I'll take this factory next,” Evie decided at last, tapping one located in the Strand. “After that illness, I think it would lighten Clara's spirits seeing more children freed.” She waited, expecting Jacob to chime in with his own idea, but he said nothing.

If he was going to take any strike against the Strand, he wanted Max there with him.

“Jacob?” Evie gave his shoulder a little shake. “What's with you? Are you actually thinking up a plan?”

“You're hilarious,” he drolled.

“No, I know what it is: your mind's off thinking about your lover.” There was no point in hiding anything from her. Evie grinned, delighted and a little smug. “My, my. You really are smitten by this man, aren't you, Jacob Frye? Am I ever going to meet him?”

Jacob kept his eyes on his new knuckles. _Love._ He could feel his sister's eyes on him waiting patiently but stubbornly. Jacob had a sudden image of her following him as he went to meet with Max.

“You already know him: it's Maxwell Roth.”

When she didn't react right away Jacob lifted his gaze to her face. Evie's mouth was slightly opened, her freckles more obvious now with the color drained from her face. “Maxwell Roth?” she choked out. “The leader of the Blighters?”

“Yes. We met when I was escorting Mrs. Disraeli and--”

“He's in Starrick's pocket!” Evie snapped at him. “He trained those other gang leaders!”

“But he wants to be free from Starrick. He's been helping me take the man down!”

“And leave Roth as the last man standing,” Evie snorted. “How convenient.”

“It isn't like that. He doesn't care about control.” Jacob took a breath, trying to speak in a calmer tone. “You know those printing plates that were stolen from the bank? He tracked them down for me and helped me destroy the press. He didn't have to do that. He could have let the market go into chaos, or used the plates for himself. But he didn't.”

Evie didn't answer. Her eyes were on his knuckles, registering them for the first time. She already guessed the truth, but Jacob said it out loud anyway.

“I love him, Evie.”

“This has to be the most insane, reckless thing you've ever done in your life,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Of all the people in this city...” But Evie didn't mention their father's mantra on personal attachments, or try convincing Jacob to step away. She must have sensed it would do no good. “I'm still doing that factory,” she insisted.

“Clara will be pleased.” No doubt Max had ideas of his own on what they could do next against Starrick. “You know what I think,” Jacob mused, a teasing smile forming on his lips. “I think you're jealous because Greenie hasn't given you a token of his affection yet.”

“Oh, come off it!” She kicked him in the shin and he swatted back at her, laughing.

Jacob was still grinning when he arrived at the Alhambra's back entrance. Max burst out before Jacob could walk through. “Jacob, come. I have something I want to show you.”

“Hello to you, too.” Whenever Max was this excited, it promised a very interesting adventure. Jacob was eager as he hopped to his usual spot on the driver's end of the carriage. As he drove, Max gave him directions, explaining he found a factory that made weapons for Starrick. Their task was to destroy everything inside.

There was no good opening for Jacob to tell Max about the conversation with Evie.

When they arrived at the factory they divided, Max taking care of patrolling Blighters while Jacob set the explosives. Working together like this was so easy. A new idea started to form in Jacob's mind. He tucked it away for later when they were back at the Alhambra. The two met back up on the roof and Max prepared for the detonation.

“Wait!” Small figures were entering the factory. Jacob brought up the London map in his mind. Clara hadn't marked this place as one with child workers. Did she not know about it? “There are children down there!”

“Jacob, the weapons produced in this factory kill thousands. It all must be destroyed.”

“But not like this,” Jacob argued, his voice pleading. “Please, there's another way.”

The two stared at each other for a few beats. The wild madness in Max's eyes usually thrilled Jacob, but this time he felt unease. Max turned away, raising his hand for his Blighters to begin. Jacob screamed, jumping down from the roof and sinking his kukri into a Blighter's back.

“This is not a game!” he shouted up at Max. He allowed himself only enough time to register the anger on the other man's face before turning away.

He didn't want to think of anything other than saving those children. Jacob raced forward, cutting down any Blighter who tried to stop him. He was a few steps away from the factory when the explosives went off, knocking him on his back. Jacob shook off the daze and rolled back onto his feet.

Frightened screams called from inside the destroyed structure. Good, they were still alive. Jacob spotted an open window and jumped through. He tapped into his sixth sense to see beyond the building smoke. The children were scattered, some still on their feet while others were lying unresponsive on the ground. Still alive, though, his sight assured him. Jacob scanned the room for a safe exit. There was no other way than the door, he realized, and put all his force into kicking it open.

“Go, get out!” he urged the children. Those who could run were quick to obey. Jacob grabbed the nearest unconscious child and held them protectively close as he rushed them out to a safe distance. He repeated this until he was sure there were no more left inside. The conscious ones were attending their companions. One went up to him, tugging his coat shyly.

“Thank you, sir. You saved us.”

Jacob could only manage a nod. He didn't deserve thanks; it was because of him that they were in danger at all. Too caught up in Max's plan to consider this might be a place with child labor; too convinced Max wanted Starrick taken down to realize just how far the man would go to achieve it. Jacob allowed personal attachments to compromise the mission, and these children almost paid the ultimate price for it.

“Excuse me, sir.” Jacob looked up at the familiar voice. It was Max's servant Lewis with a box cradled in his hands. Jacob was furious that Max would dare try send him a gift after this. “Mr. Roth asked I deliver this to you.” Jacob wanted to refuse it, but then Lewis said, “I should tell you, sir, that when Mr. Roth is angry at one, many suffer.”

Jacob took the box without protest. He read the words; Max's cordial tone only made Jacob more wary of what he was going to see. He opened the lid and stared at his “invitation” with a grim sort of acceptance.

_So. That's how it's going to be. Well, as usual, you have my attention._

He needed a moment to sort himself out. Jacob tucked himself under the Thames bridge, watching the boats pass by as it sunk in. It all went wrong so quickly. Only this morning he had confessed that he loved this man to Evie, and now... Now what? Now Max was threatening the lives of every person who came to the Alhambra this evening. He had to know Jacob wouldn't allow that.

 _Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent._ There were many things about the Creed Jacob didn't follow, but that one he believed in fiercely. Max knew that, and didn't care. He was all too willing to condemn those children to die. The more Jacob thought about it the more he spiraled, the pain inescapable.

“Jacob?” He stirred and was surprised to see Henry Green, of all people. “Evie sent me to find you.” There was no need to ask how she knew-- the two of them shared a sense apart from the one passed down by the Precursors.

The man meant well, but having him here only made Jacob's pain worse. He teased Evie about being jealous earlier but really, Jacob was the jealous one. She picked a good man to love.

“Tell her I need to take care of something, but I'll be back in the hideout tomorrow.” Henry hesitated for a moment before quietly slipping away.

Jacob allowed himself a few more moments before he left his spot. Maxwell Roth had one more bit of entertainment planned, and Jacob wasn't going to miss it.


	11. No Other Choice

Two Blighters idled outside the music hall, chatting and paying little attention to the growing crowd. One of them held a mask dangling from his fingertips. It was too easy for Jacob to sneak up and pocket the mask. Neither of the guards even bothered turning around. He left them be and circled around the area, fitting the mask on his face before joining the queue waiting to get inside the music hall.

He was just another face in the crowd. He put on his top coat and nice clothes to more easily blend in with the other patrons but he doubted it would have mattered; no one gave him so much as a second glance.

Jacob could hear Max's voice now, and his heart lurched at the sound of it. Max was droning on about the night's festivities, dedicating it all to Jacob. That bastard. Jacob clenched his fists tight and made his way up to the third floor where he could more easily take in the hall. He thought he saw the familiar coat Max favored, but then found that same coat and mask repeated three more times in the crowd. More games. Another sweep of the hall had him spotting a waitress, and tucked away in another room a man tied up. What was that all about?

Jacob got down from his perch before he could draw too much attention. The waitress was one floor down so he headed for her first, slipping poison into her serving pitcher while she was distracted. Jacob followed her for a bit to be sure she was only serving the Blighters before moving on. He didn't even bother turning around when he heard them reacting to the poison.

He knew the backstage area so well he could nearly walk around blindfolded. A few Blighters were around but Jacob was quick to dispose of them. Max was still putting on his show and Jacob cringed listening to gunshots. “No need to worry, it's all part of the show!” Max assured his audience. He was enjoying all this. Jacob fought to keep his hands from shaking in anger while he picked the lock.

The man they tied up was just a stage hand, and when Jacob released him he hurried to lower the rafters. Jacob noted he could easily reach them now from his position.

Easy. It was all too bloody easy.

He climbed his way up, searching the stage below. A quick check showed Jacob the waitress had finished off all of the fake Roths. Hopefully the poor woman would never know she'd been indirectly responsible for their deaths.

Suddenly a smoke bomb went off masking the stage. As if knowing that was his cue, Jacob shouted, “Roth! Roth, show yourself!”

“The man of the hour has arrived at last!” Max stepped forward as the smoke dissipated to reveal him. The crowd responded with cheers and applause. “I want to thank all of you for joining us in this celebration of life... and death!”

Jacob barely heard the rest of it; he was too focused on the Blighters standing on either side of the stage with flaming torches. No... no, surely Max wouldn't do that. But he did: he gave the order, and they set the stage on fire.

“Burn!” Max cried. “Burn! Burn!”

The crowd panicked, trampling over each other in their race to get out. It was like the factory again only far worse. Jacob couldn't even fully process the emotions going through him. Jacob's eyes flitted to the exits but saw none of the Blighters barring the way. Given enough time, the building would do it for them as its structure broke under the flames. Jacob looked back to the stage and saw Max hadn't moved from his position. The man seemed to have lost every shred of sanity as he taunted Jacob.

A bit of rope was coiled near Max's leg. Jacob followed it up to one of the rafters where the other end led to a bag of sand. Too easy.

He moved over and cut the rope. Its other end coiled around Max, hoisting the man into the air. Jacob grabbed him and pulled Max onto the rafters.

“Darling!” Max crooned. He was grinning, full of that same excited energy he had for all his amusements. “What a night! The stuff of legends!”

Jacob's face twisted, fighting between rage and sorrow. He had to fight to keep from breaking. “Why do this? Any of it?”

“What? Snap a bird's neck between my thumb and forefinger? Cut down the lives of those you deem innocent? Keep the world in its manic state? The same reason I do anything.” Max suddenly grabbed him, pressing their lips together in a forceful kiss. “Why not?”

Jacob felt suddenly sick. What could Max mean by that? Was all of it just some elaborate, twisted game? _Too easy._ Shaking, Jacob activated his hidden blade and sliced it through flesh in a single motion.

The flames had consumed most of the music hall now. Jacob hefted Max's body over his shoulder and looked around for an exit. He could see beams blocking his path in two directions. If he wasn't quick he could get trapped in here and die. Finally Jacob spotted a safe route and rushed toward it. He staggered out, desperately gasping for fresh air.

He shifted the weight of his burden and moved to a spot away from the crowd. He didn't try being gentle as he let Max drop to the ground.

“Well, I hope you're happy. You just destroyed everything.”

Max let out a weak cough. He touched the cut Jacob left on his neck. A small trail of blood had already made a path down to his shoulder. “You didn't kill me.”

“Because you were serving yourself up on a bloody silver platter.” Provoking him with the dead crow, threatening innocent lives, the masks letting Jacob slip in unnoticed, the stage hand lowering the rafters at just the right height, even making Jacob doubt Max's feelings toward him. All to make Jacob want to kill.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment watching the Alhambra burn. Jacob was already wondering if he made the wrong choice.

“You're all about freedom,” he said after a moment, “but you were backing me into a corner. I bet you were thinking I'd have no other choice but to kill you.”

“I was,” Max agreed, “but I also thought you might not make it out in time.”

“You wanted to kill us both.” A part of Jacob would have certainly died if he followed through and actually killed Max. “I don't understand how my going against your plan to blow up children sparked all of this. You had to know how I would feel about that.”

“ 'Nothing is true',” Max quoted. “ 'Everything is permitted'. Isn't that your Creed?”

“That isn't what the Creed means,” Jacob snapped. “It means... we're all accountable to our own actions. We would never take the lives of innocents.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to train as an Assassin, you know. Before you pulled all this.”

“And now?”

Jacob could feel Max's eyes but refused to look. There was still too much hurt and anger in him. “Now you have the freedom you ruined everything to get. Starrick will think you're dead. Go on now and seize your bloody opportunity.”

The other man was quiet for a long time. Jacob would have thought he left, only he didn't hear any movement. Finally he couldn't resist and he looked. Max still sat beside him, eyes fixed on the crumbling Alhambra. By now the fire brigade had come but no effort from them would be enough to save the building.

“I don't think I will ever be free,” Max sighed, “because I fell in love with an Assassin named Jacob Frye.” Jacob choked and turned his eyes away again. Max picked _now_ of all times to say that out loud.

But Jacob understood exactly what Max was trying to say. Neither of them spoke again and the two sat there until the flames finally died.


	12. Epilogue

Jacob finished loading the last of Evie's belongings. She and Henry-- or Jayadeep, as Jacob now knew the man-- were on their way to India to start their lives as a married couple. Jacob teased his sister on what he assumed would be considered “fun” for her and her husband, but really he was happy for them. 

“Are you sure you don't want to come with us?” Evie asked him. “The Brotherhood can always send someone else to watch over London.”

“We fought hard for this city,” Jacob argued. “I'm not leaving it in the hands of some stranger.”

Evie pursed her lips but didn't press the subject farther. They both knew there was more to her invitation.

She was the only one apart from Jacob who knew that Maxwell Roth hadn't died in the Alhambra fire. Jacob confessed to her what he did when he returned to the hideout that night. Evie sat down beside him and put her arms around him, holding him until he could manage to not shake or cry. They hadn't spoken of it since but Jacob could see the growing concern in her eyes as her day of departure drew closer.

“Write often,” Evie urged him, squeezing his hand. Jacob gave her a kiss on the cheek before letting her go.

The ship pulled up anchor and began to drift away from the dock. “Oi! Evie!” Jacob called. She appeared at once. “Have fun!”

“Don't die!” she called back.

Jacob waited there until her ship was a tiny spot on the horizon. It felt strange to be separated from his twin. The two of them worked separately before but not so far. Even if he did write to her for help or advice, the letter would take weeks to reach her. No, Jacob was on his own.

He didn't want to head back to the hideout and face her empty space just yet. Jacob wanted to go somewhere else, a place where he could think away from the noises of the city. The solution came to him easily.

Jacob took his time in climbing up the clocktower. When he finally reached the ledge above the clock's face, he froze. Someone else was already here. He should have turned immediately around, but he didn't-- he drew closer.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

“Why not?”

“Roth, I swear--”

“Calm down, Jacob.”

Maxwell Roth had changed very little from their last meeting. The only noticeable difference was the new scar on his neck. His eyes raked over Jacob hungrily. Seeing the man again made the pain and hurt fresh, but it also resurrected unwanted memories of intimate moments: Roth's mouth against his, his legs wrapped around Jacob as the Assassin fucked him, the wild look in Roth's eyes as they worked together.

“What are you doing here?” Jacob rephrased, letting the frustration and anger leak out through his tone.

“This is my favorite place in London.” Roth flashed him a smile. “Isn't that why you're here?” There was no point in giving a verbal answer. “Join me,” Roth invited, pointing to the ledge.

Even now Jacob was unable to resist getting closer to Roth. He sat down next to the man, hating the comfortable familiarity of it.

“I thought you might have left London,” Jacob mentioned.

“I had a compelling reason to stay.” Jacob swallowed and pointedly looked away; he didn't want to hear about this. “I heard you were knighted,” Roth added in an offer to change the subject.

“Both my sister and I, and my brother-in-law.”

“A great honor, indeed. And now you are London's protector. The role suits you.”

There was something odd about the way Roth was speaking to him and it took Jacob a moment to realize why: so far Roth hadn't once used the endearment _my dear_. The absence only served to show their disconnection, and Jacob wasn't sure if he felt relieved or disappointed.

“It's a role I plan to take seriously,” Jacob told him.

“No need to worry. I _like_ the world in chaos, remember?” Jacob couldn't completely fight off the smile that twitched from that comment. “London without the control of the Templars promises to be very interesting. I wouldn't dream of missing it.”

“An entertainment,” Jacob clarified. “Naturally.”

“It's the answer you would prefer.”

Again Jacob didn't give a response. Slowly he turned his head so he could look at Roth. As much as he tried to avoid it, his mind had often drifted to Roth over the past few weeks. There were too many places where some sight or sound would trigger a memory. Then of course Jacob's dreams, going between erotic and horrifying.

“You never told me how you really got your scar,” Jacob noted softly.

Roth turned to meet his gaze. “It was at the workhouse.”

Jacob nodded; he thought it was something like that. “I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you,” he began slowly. “You broke my heart and worse, you threatened innocent people just to get to me. I think I could... accept you again, in time, but I don't know how long that will take.”

Roth responded with a slow smile. “I have the time.”

**~end**


End file.
